


Bela's Choice

by firesign10



Series: SPN Pairing Bingo 2013 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/M, Kinky, Mention of Alastair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 16:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firesign10/pseuds/firesign10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bela's in Hell now that her deal expired, but it's not quite what she expected. Crowley has plans, and Bela has a choice to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bela's Choice

It wasn't as hot as she'd imagined; rather than a pure, fiery heat, it was more dense and smoky - like a pig roast and a fall leaf burning combined. The dark smell of combusting decay clung to her skin immediately and coated the inside of her mouth with her first breaths, leaving her with a ashen taste on her tongue. The dark sky was streaked with lurid, orange clouds and noxious grayish fumes, while the ground was covered in some sort of fleshy, blighted plant growth. She quickly looked away from it when she suddenly realized it was moving, hastening her steps instead to the path of cracked stones that Crowley was now walking on.

He walked along briskly, his heels rapping on the stones. His elegant suit, falling crisply along the lines of his stocky body, looked grossly out of place in this dreary, poisonous place. He turned to check on her - clearly not out of concern - and his eyes snapped at her stumbling progress. "Come along now, Bela!" Crowley barked. "You'll want to be inside before the hounds are loosed for the night!" Turning back, he moved nimbly, leaving her to slog after him with labored steps.

As the sky darkened even further, they finally came to a mansion. It must have been noble at one time, fronted by a wide, sprawling veranda and bookended by huge pillars. A score of long windows, most of them broken, ran across the face, giving the manse an unfortunate empty mien. Jagged trunks gave testimony that trees had once populated the sprawling lawn that was now covered with the same slithering, noxious plant growth. The stone of the building looked mostly intact, but everything around it added to the desolate feeling of ruin. 

Bela did not particularly want to enter that foreboding place, but the thought of hellhounds running loose didn't delight her either. She cautiously followed Crowley inside with her hands curled into fists and her jaw set. She didn't know what was going to happen next, but she was ready to fight. Nobody got one over on Bela, and she vowed to herself to keep it that way. That growing sense of feeling helplessly trapped - well, she was just going to ignore that for now.

Crowley led her into a spacious drawing room, featuring shelves of books along the wall and several red leather chairs edged with brass studs. A few were drawn up around a low table, and three or four others were grouped by an empty fireplace. The broken windows gaped between shredded drapes of heavy tapestry. Bela wished very hard that there would be a fire lit, because inside the house was very chilly and the air was redolent with that damp feeling of mold and neglect. She wasn't quite sure why the oppressive heat of outside wasn't felt in here, but Hell probably didn't obey any earth-type laws of physics or anything. Maybe here, every place was different inside, including climate.

She stood on the carpet, the design of which was so worn it could no longer be ascertained beyond squiggles of faded color, and waited. She'd just arrived in Hell, and so far it hadn't been like anything she'd thought it would be. She knew it still had the eternal torment and all, but what was she doing here, in this miserable dwelling, and with Crowley? She'd expected to be cast into a lake of fire, or tortured by demons, or any number of hellish fates, but not this. Not standing around in a shabby study, just waiting.

Crowley had busied himself at a desk in one corner, but he turned his attention to her now. "Well, Bela, my dear," he purred. "How do you like your new home?" Bela wondered if he meant this house or Hell itself. Her confusion was broken by Crowley backhanding her in the face. She stumbled to the side, the unexpected force of his blow moving her body easily. She stared at him, one hand on her cheek, and he looked at her with a steely gaze. "When I ask you a question, my dear, you will bloody well answer it, and answer it sharp! Hear me?" She nodded dumbly, stunned at the randomness of his violence. "Now, for the first and only time ever, I'll repeat myself: how do you like your new home?"

Bela gathered herself together and straightened up, looking down at Crowley, who was a good two inches shorter than her. "If you mean Hell, I haven't seen that much of it yet. If you mean this house, it could use a good turning out and a decorator." She shook her hair back out of her face and crossed her arms in front of her chest, pretending a calm defiance she didn't entirely feel at the moment.

Crowley stared at her for a minute before bursting out in a braying laugh. "That's what I'm talking about! Ah, Bela, I knew you were a feisty bitch. You just learn when to leash that tongue and we'll get along just fine." He reached his hand out again and she couldn't control the flinch. He simply stroked her face, bringing her hair from behind her shoulder over to frame her face. "You're so lovely," he said quietly. "I couldn't let Alastair take you and destroy that loveliness over and over again, now could I? Do you know what he'd do to you, sweetheart?" He paused, and she shook her head quickly, not wanting another blow. "He'd put you on his rack, he would, and he'd very, very slowly peel your skin off, inch by inch. He'd leave your eyes intact so you could watch him do it. He's got these very nice flensing knives, and he makes a lovely, delicate cut first. Then he just kind of teases the knife edge under and then - well, he has a couple of different methods. Sometimes he keeps teasing the skin free, very delicately slicing behind it to separate it from the muscles and the bones." He stroked her hair again, and she was frozen under the caress, unable to stop staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. "That's one way. Another time, he'll have that knife edge under and then he just . . . PULLS!" And he yanked her hair hard. Bela screamed; she was so tensed up and hypnotized by his words that the hair pull seemed like her skin ripping. Tears sprang to her eyes as she fought to catch her breath. Crowley was smiling at her with a wide smile, his eyebrows lifted in mock concern. "Oh, did I scare ya now? Sh sh, pet, sh sh. I decided not to let Alastair have you, see? And instead I brought you here. As long as you're inside these walls, you're safe from everyone in Hell." He paused to consider. "Well, everyone . . . but me."

Bela couldn't take her eyes off Crowley, indeed she could barely blink. Her tears of shock had spilled over her lids and coursed down her cheeks. Her hair was tousled, and she could feel her lip quivering but was unable to stop it. Crowley's eyes were gleaming now as his hand slid from her down down to her blouse. Continuing to stare into her eyes, he flicked the buttons open one by one. The silk of her blouse immediately draped open, and she watched as he looked down her body and back up. "You're very pretty, my dear, very pretty indeed," he murmured as he gently slid the blouse off her shoulders. She closed her eyes and she clenched her jaw. She had bartered her body before - it wasn't the worst thing. She'd do what she'd done in the past - imagine he was someone else. Someone . . . tall. Handsome. Maybe . . . with green eyes, and freckles - stupid freckles that shouldn't even be sexy, but were.

This blow was even harder than the other one. She staggered, arms flying out to regain her balance. The pain radiated across her cheekbone and around her eye. "There'll be none of that. No going off into dreamland and pretending you're buggering some nancy boy. Who was it? Once of those Winchesters, eh? Sam, maybe? The tall, broody moose? Or, no - Dean! The cocky smartass! No, Miss Talbot, you will keep your eyes open, or I'll have Alastair arrange for that permanently! You will never - never - forget who you are with and who is fucking you! I'll be fucking you whenever I damn well please, or using you when and however I choose! You will always say yes to me, and you'll do it with fucking joy in your voice! Joy that you aren't on Alastair's rack, being endlessly dissected! Joy that your mind and body are still relatively intact! Joy that I don't fucking tie you to a breeding bench and let the goddamn hellhounds mount you! Have you seen their cocks, Bela? Well, let's just say that since they are the size of a small horse, their dicks are proportionate. Imagine that if you will, Miss Talbot, half a dozen of those mighty beasts fucking and knotting and breeding you!"

He had his hand on her chin now, his fingers digging into her cheeks. She could hardly breath, a current of pure fear running throughout her body. Crowley's face transfixed her; she was wrapped up in absolute horror from his words. "You, my dear, are now my personal whore. You will suck me, be fucked by me, and bathe my tender little tootsies, if I so decree. There is no place I will not take you as I please, inside this house or inside of Hell." He released her face and grabbed her bra, breaking the little plastic clasp and ripping the lace off her breasts. He mmm-ed in approval, running his hands over and around them, cupping and hefting them to feel their weight. His thumbs ran over her nipples, rubbing the delicate flesh roughly. He pinched them hard and she whimpered, reeling from both the pain and the full impact of his intentions. She whimpered again when he landed a glancing slap on each breast, the skin flushing immediately. He tugged her nipples again and said, "Oh yes, we must pierce these little pink lovelies. Then when we go tour Hell, I'll leash you through the jeweled rings we'll put here."

Bela could see it now - her following Crowley as he checked on his operations in Hell. She'd be naked, of course, the jeweled rings sparkling on her nipples, the gold chain clipped to them with the other end in Crowley's hand. He'd have fun jerking the leash now and then just to hurt her. He'd made her drop to her knees and blow him as he surveyed his demons. He'd make her stop and accept his cock wherever he felt like it, regardless of who was around. He'd play with her breasts, finger her pussy whenever it suited him. She would be a slave, his whore, a non-person with no rights. She wondered idly if he would let her come at all. Would he share her, make her fuck other people or demons, or was she only for him? 

Did it matter?

It only took her a few fast moments to decide that it didn't matter. Bela was a realist, even in Hell. She had spent her life playing the game - in her past life, she'd become a master of the game. And this? This was the only game in town. It was this or Alastair flaying her, this or having hellhounds fuck her to death, this or whatever other horrible fate awaited her. 

Bela took a deep breath, making sure her breasts shifted in Crowley's hands. "I think sapphires might be nice. Or maybe amethysts." She grabbed his hands and held them tightly to her body. "Eyes open. Nipple rings and leash. Anything and anywhere. Think I've got it. Anything else?"

Crowley smiled. "I'm so glad you're seeing things my way, my dear. There's no reason this can't be good for both of us. As long as it's good for me first."

"Of course . . . master. I wouldn't dream of it any other way."


End file.
